


All I Want is Serenity

by Avery_Kedavra



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Angst, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders Needs a Hug, Disassociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Insecure Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Insecurity, Not Eating, Panic Attacks, Post-Episode: Putting Others First - Selfishness v. Selflessness Redux | Sanders Sides, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Sensory Overload, Sleep Deprivation, Spiraling, Time - Freeform, Touch-Starved, Unreliable Narrator, and losing track of it, kind of, so if that's iffy for you please be careful, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25290820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery_Kedavra/pseuds/Avery_Kedavra
Summary: Roman knows the only way to keep the Sides from hating him is to make sure he’s perfect. He needs to say the right things, act the right way, and smile at the right times. But his endless practicing, high standards, and ugly thoughts are only making him screw up more. He needs to get a handle on things and become the perfect prince they want, or he’ll be kicked out for good.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Deceit & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Thomas Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil & Creativity | Roman & Logic | Logan & Morality | Patton & Thomas Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders & Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Everyone, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Morality | Patton Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Thomas Sanders
Comments: 61
Kudos: 532





	All I Want is Serenity

**Author's Note:**

> *ahem* Yes, thank you for gathering here tonight. I know I’m supposed to be working on my millions of unfinished fics. However, let me propose some, *ahem ahem* Roman angst? Perhaps, perhaps. Thanks to @becca-becky for not judging when I asked for “weird crab facts, stat.”
> 
> (Title is from ‘dreamin by The Score.)
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at @averykedavra!

It was cold in Thomas’ living room. Roman shivered as soon as he rose up. He’d try and fix the temperature, but there wasn’t time, not with everyone’s eyes on him.

Usually he loved attention, or was good at pretending that he did. But with Logan’s cold stare, Virgil’s glower, Patton’s shaky smile, and Thomas’ blank expression tearing through him, his skin crawled and he hid his shaking hands behind his back. He was ready for this. He was.

“Greetings,” he said, trying for a smile and his usual confidence. Was that the right way to go about this? Could he even maintain the facade anymore? Should he just let down his guard and stop being so insufferably extra all the time?

“Roman,” said Janus, and Roman flinched. Why did he do that? He _knew_ Janus would be there, a few feet from Logan, yet he found himself unable to even look in Janus’ direction.

“We need to talk,” Thomas said, and Roman nodded. He knew.

“About the last episode.” Logan adjusted his glasses and Roman felt a little flicker of comfort at the familiar motion. “Clearly there are some things we need to sort out.”

Roman opened his mouth to apologize. Was that the right way to do this? Apologize right off the bat? The idea rankled at him, the fragments of his pride trying to stop him from throwing it all away, but maybe it would help to get everything out of the way.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I was rude and very unprincely towards Janus, and I hope he can forgive me.”

Janus watched Roman for a moment before inclining his head. Not forgiveness, but acknowledgment, which was better than Roman expected.

“That’s good, kiddo,” Patton said, his smile growing a little more real. “Now what about the rest of us?”

Roman swallowed. “The rest of us?” he repeated, wishing desperately he had chosen to do anything else, wondering why he thought this was ever a good idea.

“Well, yeah.” Virgil’s arms were curled around his knees and he was sitting instead of standing on the stairs. Rather out-of-character for him, but it helped ground Roman, not having everyone here be perfect and unaffected by the situation. “You’re…y’know…”

Virgil blew his bangs away from his eyes. Now that was classic Virgil, and it made Roman’s heart clench.

“You need to apologize to all of us,” Virgil finished, shrugging. “Sorry, dude, but…you messed up. Big-time.”

“I…” Roman nodded. “Of course. Logan, I am so sorry for insulting you by pushing the Ignorant button. That was a rude and insensitive joke and I’m sorry.”

Logan’s eyes softened, just a little bit.

“Patton, I…” Roman bit his lip. “I’m sorry for pushing you so much. We went into territory you were clearly uncomfortable with, and instead of hearing your concerns, I led you to have a breakdown.”

Patton’s eyes flashed. Okay, bad choice of words. Roman made a mental note to avoid calling it a breakdown.

“Thomas.” Roman tried to remember what to say. He’d wronged Thomas, hadn’t he? How? “The wedding,” he guessed, hoping Thomas would give him a cue.

Thomas nodded slowly.

Okay. Good. He was on the right track. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go to the wedding,” Roman continued, keeping his voice level. “It wasn’t what you wanted to do, and I let my own fears of siding with Janus get in the way of doing the right thing for you. I sacrificed your dreams, and for that, I apologize.”

Roman could have made a snarky comment about how they were his dreams too, and really he was only trying his best, but he had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well. Maybe he’d try it later, when he was tired and looking to let out some anger, but for now he was giving this his best shot.

“And Virgil.” Roman let all his sorrow and guilt flood his voice. “Virgil, I…I’m so sorry for ever treating you like the villain, for not listening to you, for being so prejudiced against the ‘Dark Sides.’ I’m sorry for even making up that name. I’ve been a terrible prince and an even worse friend, and I hope you– _all_ of you–can forgive me.”

For a second, Virgil looked about to smile. Had Roman done it? Had he made his way through with no mistakes?

Then a sharp voice cut through his fog of hope. A sharp side to cut through all the bull. A sharp tongue and sharp eyes, slicing Roman back down to size.

“Why would we?”

Roman’s mouth went dry. He swallowed a few times. Stay tall, Roman. He was born for the stage, the spotlight. He was a master of improv. So why did this specific scenario get him so off-kilter?

“Why would we forgive you,” Janus continued, stepping forward, “when you’ve been lying this whole time?”

“What?” Roman whispered.

“You’re not actually sorry.” Janus’ voice was louder than Roman’s heartbeat, but only by a little. “You’re just apologizing so we’ll forgive you and you can start getting what you want again. I can taste lies, Roman, and you’re coated in them.”

“I-I’m not…” Roman took a step back. “I’m not lying!”

It was a weak line. A weak comeback. But Roman had always been weak.

“I’m not going to forgive you,” Janus said, and there it was. A simple statement that stabbed into Roman’s heart. “You’ve apologized before and you’ve never tried to change your ways. The fact is, you _can’t_ change, because you don’t even believe you’ve done anything wrong.”

“How could you say that?” Roman protested. _Yes and_ , his own mind whispered at him. Improvisation is _yes-and_ , not blind denial. But how could he agree to that and still survive this? How could agree to that and get the good ending? “I’ve done so many things wrong! I’ve–”

“You have,” Janus agreed, stepping forward again. Roman felt his back hit the wall. The TV was between them, he noticed dimly, and cursed himself for the thought. Janus wouldn’t _attack_ him! What kind of unsavory fear was that? So much for thinking of Janus as a good guy.

Still, even if the real Janus would never attack him, Roman had a sickening feeling that right now, all bets were off.

“You’ve made a million mistakes,” Janus said. _Something we’re both familiar with_ , Roman remembered, but that was just a line to flatter Roman, make him let his guard down. There was no flattery now. “But you’re not sorry. I can tell.”

“Of course I am! I–” Roman paused, doubt squirming into his head. Was he sorry? Sure, he acted like he was, he told himself he was. But was he really apologetic? Or did he just want to get rid of the guilt that ate him up every night, the loaded glances everyone gave each other when he entered the room, the bite in everyone’s voice when they greeted him? Was he so selfish that he didn’t care about his friends’ feelings, only his own?

“Finally, an epiphany.” Janus smirked. “I knew it would take a while to get through that idiotic head of yours. But now that you’ve finally caught up with the big kids, do you know what it means that you’re only thinking of yourself?”

Roman knew. Roman knew. He didn’t want Janus to say it, but Janus was going to, because everything was out of Roman’s control. Why had he wanted it like this? Why did he think he could handle it?

“Evil,” Janus said, relishing each letter. “You’re the evil twin, Roman.”

Roman glanced around wildly, hoping for some scrap of support. He knew there wouldn’t be any. He knew their faces would cut him even deeper. But he looked around anyway, and he hoped, because Roman had always been pretty stupid.

Logan’s face, stern and cold, eyes flashing. Virgil, glaring at Roman like he did long ago back when they were enemies, baring his teeth. Patton, smile finally slipping off his face, looking at Roman with furrowed brows and a pout. Disappointment.

And Thomas. His Center. His person. The one he did everything for, the one he dreamed for, the one he lived for. Thomas looked at Roman, shook his head, and looked away.

Roman tried to scrounge up some sort of fight. He needed to get them to forgive him! Or at least continue the conversation! He couldn’t just give up now. Giving up wasn’t something heroes did, and if Roman wanted the slightest chance of success, he had to brave this out.

But Janus’ eyes were gleaming and sharp like the edge of a knife. The script had been torn to pieces long ago, and the more Roman stood among the people that resembled his friends, the more it tore him up inside.

He sighed, slumped against the wall, and waved his hand. “Cut.”

The room dissolved around him. He sunk to the ground, or what might have been ground. It was hard to tell when the Imagination was between worlds. Everything was the same shade of parchment white. He ran his hand down the wall and felt the roughness. Usually this place invigorated him, an empty canvas, a blank slate to create wondrous worlds and spin scintillating stories. Now it just reminded him of his failure.

Ugh. The first round was always the worst, but he thought he’d be able to handle it a little better than _that_. But no. He’d frozen, choked, run dry. One malicious monologue and he got tongue-tied? Pathetic. And he was supposed to be an actor.

Well. Maybe it would take longer than he expected. Ten rounds instead of five, maybe even twenty or thirty. But he’d figure it out. He’d be able to brace himself for the hatred. Or better yet, find the good ending. If there was one to get at all. He certainly didn’t deserve their forgiveness. Perhaps, though…perhaps if he found the right words, he’d manage to salvage their tolerance.

Either way, he knew when he finally had this conversation in real life, he’d be prepared. He’d be insulated from the harm of any stinging words thrown his way. He’d be fine.

Practice made perfect, after all.

Roman hauled himself to his feet and waved his hand, building the living room from scratch. He put the finishing touches on Virgil’s patchwork hoodie, Logan’s striped tie, Janus’ scales, Patton’s smile. Maybe it would hurt less if he made it less realistic, didn’t pour all his love and knowledge into each creation, but it was supposed to hurt. It wasn’t practice if he didn’t feel the weight of the real situation, didn’t feel the pressure on his lungs and the shake of his hands, didn’t feel the shame of being ridiculed.

“From the top,” Roman muttered, clapping his hands. And the scene started again.

“Greetings,” Roman said, smiling as wide as he could, ready for another try.

_“Logically, there is no reason to forgive your apology. I hold no affection for you and you have sidelined me on multiple occasions.”_

"Cut. From the top.”

_“Kiddo, I’ve always supported you, but don’t you think you’re getting in Thomas’ way? I really think I should take the driver’s seat on this one. Maybe you can take some alone time and think through how you can be better.”_

“Cut. From–from the top.”

_“Oh, hey, bro! Whatcha up to? See, we’ve decided you’re not really all that, so we’re trying the other Creativity out as the good twin. Just take a backseat and be a nuisance, which shouldn’t be too hard.”_

“Cut! From the top!”

_“Jeez, Princey, can you pump the brakes? And I thought I was a bad guy. Hate to say it, but maybe you should just duck out and stop corrupting him.”_

“C-cut. From…from the top.”

_“You’ve never been my hero, Roman, and you never will be.”  
_

Roman couldn’t even say “Cut” after that. He was too busy crying.

Eventually, though, after a million wrong choices and a billion broken smiles, he found his way to some semblance of the good ending. No jolly good fellows and cheering citizens, no happily-ever-after, just a version that didn’t make Roman want to curl into a corner and hide forever. His fake smile got better with every round. His apologies grew more polished, and even though they felt less and less sincere, they got better and better results. Soon he was just running through the words like he was reading off a teleprompter, bobbing his head along to a script he knew by heart.

He knew what to say. He knew where to pause, where to let his voice crack, when to smile and when to let someone else talk. He learned to wait his turn, to accept the first two insults from Logan but push back at the third, because if he didn’t, Janus would accuse him of taking things lying down which would lead to an entire diatribe from Virgil about Roman never fighting for himself anymore. It was a delicate balance between meek and egotistical, quiet and loud, apologetic and confident. One slip of the tongue and he’d be berated again, kicked out, encouraged to just duck out and save everyone the trouble of his company.

Still, it stung less after the tenth time. Roman barely even flinched after the twentieth. By the thirtieth, he was able to just nod and smile, swallowing the hurt. By the fiftieth–fortieth? Fiftieth? How many times had he remade this room, polished up these characters, and tried again? He didn’t remember–by the time he stopped, it didn’t hurt at all.

He was tired, he realized as he finally put away the living room for good. His eyes ached and his head swam. He must have been doing this for several hours. Time was hard in the Imagination. Well, no longer should he deny himself his beauty sleep! Usually he’d have a walk into town to reward himself for succeeding, have a chat with some characters or slay a mighty dragon or just enjoy the wind on his skin. But he didn’t really feel like he deserved a reward right now. And he definitely wasn’t up for any dragon-slaying. Or socializing.

Roman summoned a quill and scratched out a door in red ink. Maybe it was overkill when he could just sink into his room, but he enjoyed watching the ink spread over the surface of the wall and sink into a three-dimensional figure. It was one of his favorite parts of the Imagination, the way he could will anything into existence, plant a seed and let it have a life of its own.

Or it usually was. Not when the Imagination supplied biting words and cold eyes, going above and beyond even Roman’s worst fears, forcing him to confront every possible worst-case scenario.

Other than that, though, it was a fun place.

Roman opened the door to his bedroom. It was dim and empty, smelling almost stale. How long had been away? Didn’t matter, he was tired. And hungry, he realized as his stomach growled, but sleep before food. Did he even have any food? He’d been storing as much as possible under his bed so he wouldn’t have to attend meals too much, but he was pretty sure he’d eaten the last chicken wrap this morning. Or maybe yesterday morning.

Roman collapsed on his bed with a sigh. The food issue could wait for now. His eyes were already closing. He pulled his quilt over him and sunk into his pillow, breathing another sigh of relief. Goodness, he felt like he could pull an Aurora and sleep for a hundred years. All that crying must have been exhausting.

But just as Roman drifted off, he felt a tug in his chest.

Thomas.

Oh, _no._

Roman’s eyes flew open. He thought he still had a day before this! That’s what Logan’s schedule said, and Logan’s schedule never lied. Why would they push it earlier?

Roman glanced out the window at the sunny day. His alarm clock read 4:30. The little red x’s over the previous days on his calendar proclaimed it to be a day before the Talk. Maybe he’d gotten the date wrong, misread it somehow. That would be just like Roman, to be such an idiot he messed up a simple date.

Well, no time to worry about it now. Thomas was summoning him again, the tug stronger and almost painful. Roman quickly jumped out of bed, waited for the room to stop tilting, and strode over to his full-length mirror. He looked like a hot mess. Nay, not hot, cool. Nay, not cool, uncool. An uncool mess.

Roman quickly snapped his fingers and straightened the wrinkles from his outfit, combed the tangles from his hair, and dried the tear tracks on his face. He practiced a smile, a grand pose, and recited his part in his head. He knew what he was doing. He was ready, he was prepared, he was numb. This would be fine.

When he felt another tug he took his chance, rising up in the real world and beaming at everyone. “Greetings,” he said, going a little quiet on the second syllable and purposefully softening his smile when he was done.

It was warm. No surprise, it was late spring in Florida, but Roman had gotten used to the icy chill of the Imagination. He’d never bothered to fix it. Maybe he should have, because the warmth was throwing Roman off, reminding him that this was the real thing and if he messed up, he got no do-overs.

“Hi, Thomas,” he said after a two-and-a-half-seconds pause. “Everyone.”

“Roman.” Janus’ voice cut in, right on time.

Roman nodded at Janus, lifting his lips slightly. Janus didn’t smile back, but he didn’t until later. So everything was going to plan.

“Where have you been?” Thomas burst out, his eyebrows furrowed. “Nobody’s seen you for days!”

Oh. Okay. That was off-script.

“I’ve been in the Imagination,” Roman said quickly. Not a lie, so Janus couldn’t see right through him. Just a layered truth. “What would you like to talk about, Thomas?”

Thomas pressed his lips together. “I think you know.”

Roman carefully let his smile fall, just a bit. “I know.”

“Yeah.” Thomas looked around. “We need to talk about the last episode, Roman.”

“We’ve already spoken about it,” Logan said carefully. “Just…not with you.”

“You weren’t answering us,” Virgil said, curling into himself, just a bit. “We, um–I. I was worried. But you’re here now, so–so that’s good.”

“So.” Patton tugged at the sleeves of his cardigan, looking nervous. The same nervous smile as Roman expected. “I–”

“I’m sorry,” Roman said, reciting the speech he perfected, the one tailored to ruin his friendships with the least people. “I messed up, and I’m sorry. Janus, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name–I actually like it, it’s very dramatic and it suits you.” End the compliments there, before Janus thought he was laying it on thick, or worse, figured anything Roman liked had to be terrible. “Patton.” Pause for emphasis, keep his voice level. “That video was kind of a mess, and that was my fault.” Don’t add any ‘maybes’ or ‘partiallys’ or ‘kind ofs’. Don’t imply it was Patton’s fault or everyone will get mad. “Logan, I’m sorry for cutting you off. I do that far too much–” Not ‘ _we’_ , ‘ _I’_ , because the last time he said ‘we’ Virgil got mad that Roman thought Virgil ignored Logan. “–and I would benefit from listening to you more.”

It was Virgil’s turn now. Roman didn’t have to say much to Virgil–too much, and he’d send Virgil into a panic attack like he did in the Imagination. “Virgil, I’m sorry for all the times I’ve been cruel to you. I haven’t ever apologized for those before, and that was my bad. You’re…you’ll always be one of us.” Oh, no. He’d gone off-script. But he just couldn’t help it! Hopefully the extra compliment wouldn’t be seen as too forthright, and no one could get mad at Roman for assuming that there was an “us” and Roman was part of it.

Everyone was silent. Roman let his words ring for a second or two. He didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, instead turning to Thomas. Thomas had an unreadable expression on his face, and Roman knew how quickly it could turn to anger, disappointment, fear, disgust. He had to do this right.

“Thomas.” Roman carefully shifted from one foot to another, a small sign of weakness that would make him seem a little less egotistical than usual. “I…I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t add anything else. No chances for misunderstandings with Thomas. He was a part of Thomas, all of them were, and Thomas would know exactly what he meant.

And Thomas did. His eyes softened. “I forgive you, Roman. Thanks for saying that.”

“Great!” Roman knew a cue to leave when he heard it. Sticking around too long had never ended well. They’d gotten their apologies, which meant he was no longer necessary. “Now, I’m afraid a noble quest awaits me, so I shall take my leave. Farewell!”

He gave a little flourish of the hand and sunk out, leaving the rest of them frozen in the living room.

“Wait–” Virgil started to say, but Roman was already gone.

Roman spent the rest of the afternoon dozing, watching TV, and scribbling down the first lines of stories he knew he’d never finished. At some point, maybe two hours or so after the dinner he skipped by insisting “I ate earlier, Padre, and I’m awfully busy right now,” he learned why the Talk had taken place a day early. Or rather, that it _hadn’t_. He’d been in the Imagination for a whole day without realizing.

Well, that happened sometimes. A day or so, and Roman would be back to his fabulous self. And he’d navigated that conversation with barely a hiccup, a real achievement. He usually messed up somewhere, the panic getting to him, lashing out at someone or feigning too much confidence and coming off as egotistical. And of course, before he started doing this, he’d been a mess.

He’d gotten the idea during Can Lying Be Good?, and although that episode was a disaster after Deceit showed up– _Janus_ , his name was Janus, a change that still sent Roman’s stomach tumbling whenever he was reminded of it–it was still a good idea to work through possible options before making a choice.

So it started small. Roman practicing monologues on an empty stage, Roman working through a few different scenarios before deciding on the play to audition for, Roman conjuring up another Side and practicing asking them for help or thanking them for their assistance or apologizing for a wrongdoing. Slowly he started building worlds, polishing off characters, holding full conversations. There were more and more choices now. Everything was a choice. Every word was a choice that led to good or bad, happiness or hatred. Was this how Virgil saw the world, every sentence a pitfall? Roman hated it.

Yet made things a little better, made Roman feel a little better, a little more in control. Like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure story, paging through each option before making his choice, messing up and being able to stumble back to the last moment of solid ground, searching for that good ending. Like a video game with infinite lives.

Ugh, a video game. That carried bad memories thanks to the disastrous episode after the wedding. Roman had gone in there completely blind, since he had no time to prepare with a few run-throughs, and it had gone off the rails. What _was_ that analogy with Thomas’ dead friends? Why had he pushed Patton into blowing up? Why had he even _tried_ to contribute to a discussion about morality, which he _knew_ wasn’t his area of expertise? And why had…why had he laughed at Janus’ name?

He’d panicked. That’s what he’d done. He’d panicked and made all the worst choices he could. He’d panicked and showed his true colors as a thoughtless, heartless, egotistical villain. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn’t been kicked out of the Light Sides on the spot.

But it was fine now. He’d managed to scrounge up some compassion from the others, they’d forgiven him, and it was fine. Well, he hadn’t stuck around to see whether they’d forgive him–expecting something in return wasn’t very kind of him. He didn’t need them to forgive him. Thomas forgave him, and that was more than enough.

So now all he had to do was not mess it up again.

Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy.

Roman was already avoiding the other Sides as much as possible, but he dialed it up to eleven. He sneaked into the kitchen and stole a week’s worth of food. For some reason, it was depleted in three days. Either he’d miscounted the food or the days. But it was fine. He ate in the Imagination, and he felt full in there until he left, upon which his stomach would feel like it was trying to devour itself. After the third time he fainted, he figured he might want to start eating dinner with the others again.

So he spent half the afternoon practicing, ranging from best-case scenario of being politely tolerated to worst-case scenario of being stabbed by a fork. At least, he thought it was half the afternoon. It turned out to be twice as long as he’d aimed for. He’d missed dinner altogether. So Roman spent another night starving until he stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of cereal. He hoped that no one would be there. But Patton was already flipping pancakes.

When in doubt, he’d learned from all the scenarios he’d ran through, smile and nod. So Roman smiled, nodded, and started to take his cereal back to his room.

“Stay,” Patton insisted, looking far happier to see him than usual. That probably meant trouble. “The others will be down soon, and we’ve all missed having you here for breakfast!”

Okay, that definitely meant trouble. And engage in conversation before finding the right things to say? Roman would be kicked out before anyone had the chance to finish their pancakes.

“I appreciate the gesture,” Roman said, trying for an ingratiating smile, “but I truly do have things to attend to–”

“You’ve been saying that for days.” Patton slid a few pancakes onto a plate. “Kiddo, what’s going on in that head of yours? There’s no reason for you to be working this hard.”

Ah, there was his angle. He was wondering what Roman was up to. As Thomas’ Creativity, any issues with creative output could affect everyone. That made sense, and that was a conversation Roman knew how to handle. He’d practiced this very scenario, what, two weeks ago? One week? It had been a Tuesday, he was sure of that, but he didn’t know which Tuesday. Well, whatever, he remembered how to handle this. Assure Patton that everything was fine on the creative front, that as far as he knew there were no issues with burnout, and thank him for his concern.

But then Logan stumbled into the room, yawning, and Roman’s plan went out the window. Logan was a new variable, and a volatile one at that. Logan _hated_ him. Logan thought he was dramatic and worthless and annoying. More than once, Logan had ended up yelling at him in the Imagination. And in real life, if Roman was being honest. He couldn’t blame Logan, but sometimes it got on his nerves how seriously Logan took every little jab.

Still, it was just Patton and Logan. Logan would surely react well if Roman spoke of organization, promised to follow the schedule, and maybe slipped in a compliment or two. It was kind of sad how much Logan was flattered by compliments, even backhanded ones. Still, it wasn’t Roman’s place to check on his self-esteem. All Roman had to do was play into Logan’s hands.

This was fine. It was only two of them, it was only breakfast, and things would be fine.

And then Virgil slouched through the door, sat on the counter, and poured himself an ungodly amount of coffee.

Okay. Problem.

Virgil, for lack of a better word, was the most _confusing_ side. He was run by a myriad of internal inconsistencies and perfected paranoia, his operating system a hodgepodge of self-consciousness, worry, and a million little tweaks and complexities. Roman could make a good imitation of Virgil on the outside–just slap in some gravely remarks and a general I-would-rather-be-sleeping attitude, and he had himself a decent Anxiety–but on the inside? He was lost. Virgil followed his own rules. There was no telling whether Virgil would freak out over something, no playbook for whether or not he lashed out, no step-by-step manual for how to keep Virgil happy. Virgil was always on edge, always on his toes, and always saying just a fragment of what he really thought.

Roman liked that, in a way. Virgil was different, but he _liked_ that Virgil was different. Virgil could surprise him. Virgil could understand him. Virgil was a good friend.

However, with Patton and Logan already in the room, Roman really did not want to have Virgil around, too.

He cast around for an excuse that would be nice enough for Patton, serious enough for Logan, and not too suspicious so Virgil wouldn’t narrow his eyes and ask “who did you think you were fooling?” That had happened…more than once in the Imagination. Sometimes it was paired with a crack about Roman’s acting skills, which always stung.

Before Roman could find an adequate alibi, the door opened again.

“Apologies for being late,” Janus said, sliding into a chair, Remus following like a lost puppy. A puppy covered in green slime and sucking on a jar. “Remus wouldn’t stop throwing octopi at my head.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now!” Patton slid plates of pancakes onto the table. “Enjoy, kiddos!”

Roman looked around at the room. Five people. Five chances to mess up. He couldn’t do this. He hadn’t practiced. There was no safety net to keep him from falling off the tightrope.

“Roman?” That was Janus’ voice. Smooth and suave and seeing right through him.

_I can taste lies, Roman, and you’re coated in them._

Roman stood up abruptly. Everyone was looking at him now. Why had he ever grabbed the spotlight? This clinging attention made him want to curl up and hide.

“I-I need to go,” he stammered out. Before he could receive the consequences for his rudeness-abruptness-hesitance- _everything_ , he sunk out. He left the bowl of cereal half-empty on the table.

The rest of his morning, which he’d planned to use to write, ended up alternating between hyperventilating and staring at the ceiling. He was doomed. Absolutely doomed. He’d made a fool of himself and probably offended, annoyed, angered or upset everyone there. Why had he even tried? Such a ridiculous idea, inserting himself in their lives like he _belonged_ , like he was worthy to sit at their table and take up their time.

But he was greedy and selfish and didn’t want to just hide forever. It would be easiest to cut himself off. It would be easiest to lock his door and stay in his room unless summoned. It would be easiest to–no. He wouldn’t duck out. He couldn’t. He might be a defective Creativity, but he was the only Creativity Thomas had. Other than Remus, and Roman did _not_ want to leave Remus in charge.

Then again, he couldn’t possibly mess up more than Roman had. If Roman wasn’t the hero, maybe Remus wasn’t the villain, and maybe Roman should just–

Ugh. Roman rubbed his eyes and tried to scrub the thoughts from his head. They’d always lurked in the back of his skull like an itch he couldn’t scratch, but ever since the court case, they’d returned with a vengeance. And after the latest episode? It took all his power to keep them at bay.

Well. Breakfast may have been disastrous, but this wasn’t the end of things. He would just have to practice more, is all. He wouldn’t freeze up if he had a better handle on how his friends really acted. This would be fine as soon as he was perfect at it.

So he practiced. Every day, he practiced. He did the work for Thomas and ate a meal or two, then spent the rest of his time fabricating conversations. He had one-on-ones with all the Sides. He talked to them in groups. He practiced dissolving tense situations and coming to compromises and not getting yelled at for being an idiot. He learned his way around Patton and Virgil and Logan and Remus and Janus and Thomas. He found the best cadence, the best tone, the best vocabulary.

And he messed up. Over and over and over again. At his best, he managed to avoid full-on blowouts, but after he got tired? He was berated. He was mocked. He was laughed-at and shunned and told to “just leave and make the world a better place.” He cried and that just made the situations worse, he said “Cut” and felt like a coward who couldn’t face the truth, he ran out of the Imagination and curled up on his bed and tried to get his breathing back under control. Some days, it was like a nightmare he could never wake from.

But it was worth it. On the miraculous occasions when Roman did everything right, he would get praise. Patton would beam at him. Janus would apologize for hurting him. Logan would give him a little nod. Virgil would smirk and say he “really wasn’t so bad.” And Thomas…Thomas would look at Roman the way he used to, like Roman was still his hero.

Once he even got a hug from Patton. It made his arms burn and his insides go cold and hollow. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. Patton used to mandate group hugs, but everything was so tense now, and everyone avoided everyone else. Or perhaps they just avoided _Roman_. That would make sense.

When Roman played his cards right, he got the good ending. Which meant it was possible to get in real life, too. It was possible to maintain peace and remain accepted and even manage to be a good friend. However, the real world always threw Roman off. He panicked, froze like a deer in headlights, and his tongue curled up whenever he had to speak. He fumbled through conversations, conscious of the weight of the eyes on him, and retreated to the safety of his room.

He just needed more practice, he told himself. It would be _fine_.

He spent whole days in the Imagination. He brought his lunch in there with him, so he could practice eating and talking. He slept in there some nights, conjuring up a bed because he was too tired to make his way back to his real room. Sleeping in the Imagination was strange because he never knew when he’d woken up again. Everything was dreamlike and artificial. He’d stumble into his real room and pinch himself over and over again until he was sure he’d woken up.

Logan assigned Roman a brainstorming session. Roman made a note of the date and spent the day before it prepping. He had a few ideas, none of them fantastic, but hopefully Logan would be able to expand on them.

“Where have you been?” Logan asked when Roman showed up in the living room. “The session was supposed to be two days ago.”

“What?” Roman blinked and mentally ran through what he’d been doing for the past week. Oh. He must have lost track of time in the Imagination again. “I…it’s…what day is it?”

The date he got in response, along with a confused expression, cemented the truth. He was two days late.

“I’m so sorry,” Roman blurted out. “Completely lost track of time.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Logan said, but he was still eyeing Roman suspiciously. Roman quickly quieted to hear what Logan was going to do.

“I’m free now.” Logan patted the couch next to him. “We can brainstorm now, if you would like.”

Which answer was the correct one? Logan could be annoyed about the whole thing and looking for a chance to insult Roman. But he looked earnest enough. He probably wanted to get things over with and give Thomas some good ideas. Okay, that was fine. This was fine! Roman was doing great already. The ‘missed the date’ thing wasn’t optimal, but other than that, this was going so much better than it usually did.

So Roman shared his ideas. He made sure to hesitate before each one, so Logan could stop him if need be. He peppered in a few compliments, kept his voice level, and pointed out the flaws before Logan could. Everything was efficient. Logan tried to make conversation at some point, but Roman knew that was a trap and would just lead to Logan getting annoyed at Roman “getting off-track” or “not taking this seriously.” So Roman didn’t take the bait, only talking about the ideas. Logan frowned a bit but followed his lead.

As soon as the ideas were finished with, Roman cleared up his space and stood up. Lingering after he was needed never ended well.

“You’re leaving?” Logan asked.

“We’re done, are we not?”

“Of course,” Logan said, but he didn’t look convinced. Oh no. Roman had done something wrong and now Logan was going to yell at him.

“Is there something you need?” Roman asked after a few seconds of silence. He tried to sound polite instead of dismissive, but the tone didn’t come off how he liked, and he winced.

“No, I–” Logan paused. “We’re…we’re watching the filmed version of Hamilton tomorrow night. If you’d like to join us, that…would be adequate.”

“I–” Roman tried very hard to keep from squealing and jumping around the room in excitement. “Sure! I’d love to.”

Was that too eager? No, Logan just looked…relieved. Almost happy. Patton had put him up to this, probably, and he didn’t want to fail at even a simple task. Well, Roman was glad he could give Specs an ego-boost for the day.

Roman quickly excused himself before Logan could take the invitation back. He closed the door behind him, hopped up and down, and _squealed_. He shook his fists and twirled around and hummed a few lines of Hamilton. Because it was Hamilton! And someone wanted him to be there! He would get to watch Hamilton with his whole fam-ILY!

He was going to watch Hamilton.

With _everyone_.

Oh, _no_.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. It was tomorrow _night_. He would be watching the Hamilfilm with _everyone_. So, so many chances to mess up. And he’d never practiced a movie night scenario before. He’d figured it would never actually happen in real life.

But here it was. He was invited. And he only had a day to prepare.

So Roman spent an entire day in the Imagination, watching Hamilton over and over with the other Sides surrounding him. He practiced eating just enough popcorn, laughing quietly, and making jokes. What he found? The best way to maintain peace was to simply shut up. No snippy comments, they annoyed Logan, who was trying to focus. No singing, it got on Virgil’s nerves. No trying to talk to Patton, who sat next to him. Patton didn’t want to talk to Roman. Every time he opened his mouth, things went wrong, and he was left curled up on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and Lin-Manuel Miranda singing onscreen.

It was a good film. The close-ups were fun and the choreography was top-notch. Maybe Roman would watch it on his own later and actually get to sing along. Then again, he’d seen it ten times or more now, thanks to all his run-throughs of every possible scenario. Any magic the show possessed at first had drained away.

He wasn’t late to the movie night, thank goodness. Patton smiled and made room for him on the couch. Roman took just the right amount of popcorn, ignoring the yowling of his stomach, and settled in to watch. They were all in the positions he’d practiced with. Patton curled up on the couch, Virgil perched on top of it, Janus sprawled on the floor, Logan in the chair nearby, and Remus behind the TV. Patton was giggling over all the puns, Virgil was trying not to look excited and failing, Logan was monologuing under his breath, Janus was rapping along, and Remus was digging around between his toes.

And Roman stayed silent. He tamped down his excitement and simply nodded along to the music. He let Logan rant about the costume design and Virgil poke fun at some of the jokes. He let Janus hum the tunes and Remus shout out all the innuendos. It ached to just sit there, almost as if he wasn’t present, but he knew that being invisible was the only way he could leech off this comfort and familiarity. He had been included, and he _wasn’t_ going to mess this up.

“Hey, Roman?” Patton asked during the intermission. “You doing okay?”

“Of course!” Roman declared. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been kind of…quiet?” Patton’s eyebrows were furrowed. “I thought you’d like this. I know how much you love Hamilton.”

And what could Roman say? That he’d already seen this exact film a dozen times in preparation? That he’d seen every ending where he spoke up, and none of them were good? That he really wasn’t in the mood to be yelled at when he couldn’t just stop the scenario and cry on his own?

“Apologies,” Roman said instead. “I’m…I’m just tired.”

Patton looked about to continue the conversation, but What’d I Miss had begun to play, so he turned back to the TV and let it be. Roman settled in for the second act. He really wished he could just leave, but he still liked being surrounded by his friends, and they’d think it was rude if he said goodnight early.

He kept quiet, despite Patton’s confusion. He caught Virgil giving him weird looks, Janus pausing before every song like he expected Roman to join in, and even Logan eventually ran out of steam and fell almost silent.

“This is such a good song!” Patton exclaimed, humming the upper part. Janus took the lower. “Does anyone else want to sing with us?”

It was a completely transparent attempt to get Roman to sing. But no. Even if Patton seemed to want it, he’d quickly tire of Roman’s dramatics, and Virgil and Logan would hate Roman for being such a nuisance. So Roman just shrugged and smiled, enjoying Patton’s cheerful humming and Janus’ smooth vocals, pretending he didn’t wish that he could slip in between them and sing along.

Pretending was all Roman was good at, wasn’t it?

When Hamilton ended, Patton smiled and said “Wanna watch something else, guys?”

“How about Disney?” Virgil asked, watching Roman carefully. “I know one of us would like that.”

“Actually,” Roman said, standing up and stretching, “I’m quite fatigued, and a prince needs his beauty sleep. You can continue without me! I hope you have a wonderful night.”

Everyone shared glances, but Roman didn’t stick around to figure out what they meant. He waved and sunk out, returning to his room and sitting on the floor for a long, long time.

That was all he’d ever wanted. A chance to be part of the group. And he hadn’t even messed it up. So why did it feel so empty?

Roman was struck with a horrible thought. _Had_ he left the Imagination? _Was_ that the real movie night? Or was it just another scenario? Maybe he hadn’t watched the real Hamilton at all. That would explain why everyone was acting so strangely, all quiet and hesitant. No, it wouldn’t, because they would act the same as he expected, that was how the Imagination worked–

Roman reached out and ran his fingers over the carpet. This was real. That was real. Everything had happened for real. He couldn’t imagine the little details, like the reflections of the TV in Patton’s glasses, the threadbare edge of Virgil’s hoodie, the time Logan started singing along and immediately flushed bright red.

Still, the next morning, he casually mentioned to Patton the Hamilton movie. Just to make sure.

And Patton laughed and agreed. So it had really happened. That was good.

It apparently _hadn’t_ a week or so later, after a long session of possible-movie-nights so he could be prepared if he was invited again.

“Did you know female crabs lay between 1,000 and 2,000 eggs?” Remus asked in the middle of lunch. “What I’m saying is, there are enough crabs to take over the world and make us all their servants.”

“You already told us that,” Roman said, smiling.

“I did?”

“Yeah, during Moana, remember?”

That got Roman a long, blank stare. Then Remus finally said, “I haven’t watched Moana in months, bro. And I’ve _never_ watched it with you.”

“Huh?” Roman thought back to when he’d seen Moana. It was a dark night with storms on the horizon, and Patton had fallen asleep during the first song, and Logan had gotten annoyed at Roman hiccuping so Roman started over–

Oh.

“Whoops!” Roman laughed. “That didn’t actually happen. My bad.”

Remus was looking at him like he was insane, which was strange, because usually Remus was the one who was probably insane.

“Gotta go,” Roman said quickly, and disappeared. He spent the rest of the day berating himself for being an idiot and telling himself everything was fine. He’d just gotten a little confused, is all. He’d get some sleep tonight and he’d be fine tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow morning, he hadn’t slept a wink, and he wasn’t even sure it _was_ tomorrow morning. Time was starting to blend together. Roman woke up and he didn’t know what day it was. Roman forgot he could say “Cut” in the Imagination because he forgot it _was_ the Imagination. Roman said “Cut” in the middle of a conversation in the real world and had to quickly cover for it. Roman showed up for a deadline a week early. Roman made a joke about something Virgil hadn’t actually said. Roman flinched when Patton entered the room after a long lecture from Patton that hadn’t actually happened. Roman assumed one conversation hadn’t happened until it was referenced again and he realized it was real. Roman found himself panicking in the middle of the day, unable to name whether things were real or not.

Yes, he could feel everything around him, but was he really here? Was this the Imagination? He felt disconnected from his own body, unable to make any choices, unable to settle his thoughts. He found himself curled on the floor, shaking, running his hands over his outfit and trying to tell himself it really existed. Trying to stop himself from crying.

Everything was _fine_. His interactions with the Sides were good, nobody hated him, everything was peaceful. It didn’t matter if Roman felt like the world was careening around him. All that mattered was serenity for the Sides and success for Thomas. If everyone else was happy, it was fine.

Roman tried mentioning it to them. In the Imagination, of course, so there would be no real-world impact. Everyone was mad.

It was Janus who stuck out to Roman the most, because Janus was the one who grabbed Roman by the arm and said he was being selfish, didn’t he want to be better than a villain, clearly they had made a mistake allowing him to stick around. And he tossed Roman into the Subconscious, screaming. That would be where Roman woke up, if this was a nightmare, but it wasn’t. He had to snap his fingers and crumple to the ground in his room, gasping for breath.

Janus showed up at his door a few days later. Roman said “Just a minute!” so he could run through some breathing exercises and calm his shaking hands and recite the pointers for interacting with Janus. Let Janus have control of the conversation, apologize whenever necessary, and don’t rise to any of his bait.

“Roman?” Janus asked.

“Why, hello!” Roman said, opening the door just a bit so Janus couldn’t see the mess. He hadn’t spent any time cleaning his room. He’d been busy practicing. “What brings you here, Janus?” No clever nickname. Clever nicknames had been generally frowned upon in the Imagination.

“I…” Janus looked uncharacteristically…nervous. “I wanted to talk to you. Check on you.”

“Oh?” Roman asked, his stomach dropping. “And why is that?”

“I can sense lies,” Janus said. “As you know. And…I–you–”

Roman froze.

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Janus said quickly, “I’m just concerned. We all are. I know you’re upset with me for what happened, and I’m truly sorry about that. We all are. Just…we would appreciate, even if you can’t forgive us, for you to tolerate us? You haven’t been yourself lately, and we’d appreciate– _I’d_ appreciate–to know how we can make it up to you.”

Roman needed to answer. But all he could see was Janus grabbing him with an angry light in his eyes, Janus snapping at him when he said the wrong thing, Janus saying he was selfish and evil and not worth anyone’s time, Janus laughing at Roman’s discomfort, Janus calling him the evil twin, Janus sending him to the Subconscious and telling him to never come back–

“Roman?” Janus was stepping forward, concern on his face, but all Roman heard was the rushing of blood in his ears. All he saw was Janus’ twisted smile as he tore Roman down.

“I–” Roman stumbled backwards. “Don’t–”

“Don’t what?” Janus asked.

“I have to go.” Roman turned away so Janus couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. He fumbled with his doorknob and slammed the door in Janus’ face, sinking down as soon as it was closed, leaning on the wood. Breathe. He needed to breathe. Count from one to ten and back to one, in and out, big breaths. He needed to stop crying.

“Roman?” he heard from the other side of the door. Oh, no. He’d forgotten to make sure his room was soundproof.

Janus had heard him. He’d heard him _crying_.

Roman dug his fingers into his arm. _Stupid_.

“Roman, are you okay?”

Roman tried to muster up a “Yes, sorry, I’m busy/tired/alright.” Tried to find the perfect cadence and the perfect words. But he was so far from perfect right now.

“Go away,” he said to the door.

“Roman–”

“Go away!” he screamed. “Leave me alone!”

There was silence. Maybe Janus had listened to someone else for once in his life. Roman laughed a bit and found himself crying again. He’d messed up. He’d messed up for good. He hadn’t followed the script, he’d allowed himself to be weak, and now Janus would never talk to him again.

Roman didn’t even bother to practice that night. He curled up in his bed and listened to his playlist of breakup songs and cried his eyes out. By morning, his face was red and blotchy and the searing pain in his heart had turned to a dull ache. He wasn’t ready to face the other sides by any means, of course, but he felt a little more prepared to accept his fate.

So when he heard a hesitant knock on his door and a “Kiddo, can you come downstairs for a bit?” Roman braced himself and obeyed the order.

He immediately stiffened when he saw all five of the Sides, plus Thomas, sitting in the living room. Great. _Thomas_ was here. He could be told by his Center that he was useless. All he’d ever dreamed of.

“You okay?” Patton asked. “If–if you just want to talk to one of us, or only some of us, that’s fine. Just say the word, kiddo.”

“It’s fine,” Roman said, even though it wasn’t. “Where do I sit?”

Virgil gestured at the middle of the couch. Roman slowly sat down, surrounded by the people he used to call friends, the same organization as movie nights. As all the fake scenarios he’d run. He felt so unprepared now, so naked, laid bare for everyone to see. He hadn’t even bothered to make sure his face was clear. At least he wasn’t panicking. He just felt numb and adrift.

“Greetings,” Roman said, smiling at everyone.

“Roman,” Janus said, and Roman flinched.

“We need to talk,” Thomas said, and Roman nodded. He knew.

“Clearly there are some things we need to sort out.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “About last night, and, well, the past few months.”

Roman swallowed. “I’m sorry. I’m–I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Virgil frowned. “What’re _you_ sorry for? We were gonna say that _we_ were sorry.”

Roman lost his train of thought. “What?” he finally stammered, looking around for a clue.

“We’re sorry,” Thomas said. “Clearly you’ve been hurting and angry with us, and we assumed that would change on its own if we gave you time, but–”

“It just made things worse.” Patton smiled softly. “So…we’re sorry. Really sorry.”

“You’re sorry,” Roman repeated blankly. “All of you?”

“I know it doesn’t mean much.” Roman looked to Logan, who was fidgeting with his tie, staring at his feet. “But we hope we can make up for…mistakes. We might have made. Prior.”

“That episode was not ideal,” Janus said. “And despite my anger, I should not have said the things I did. So yes. We are sorry. I am sorry.”

“I’m not apologizing,” Remus said from where he was sandblasting a sculpture of male anatomy. “Didn’t do anything wrong. But seriously bro, you’re acting really freaky and not in the fun way, so yeah. Talk it out or whatever.”

“Thanks, Remus,” Patton said, and he actually sounded thankful.

“I–” Roman regretted opening his mouth the moment all heads swung back towards him. “ _What?_ ”

“Um, we’re sorry?” Virgil gave him a weird look. “Thought we made it pretty clear, Princey.”

Roman looked at each of them. They all looked sincere. They all watched him with varying degrees of concern and apologetic hesitation. Their eyes burned into his skin. He felt like he was floating off the couch. He dug his hands into the fabric but he couldn’t feel it between his fingers.

“I…I forgive you,” he said slowly, the movements of his mouth not matching the words. Why did everything feel like it was underwater? Why did everything seem so far away? He tried to figure out whether he was breathing. Yes, he was breathing, his chest kept contracting. He didn’t feel like he was breathing.

Something was wrong. Something was wrong, something was _wrong_ , _something was wrong_ –

“Roman?” Logan asked. Stood up. Stepped forward.

Roman pressed himself back against the couch.

Logan stopped. Held up his hands. Did Roman look scared? Was Roman scared? Maybe. He should be, he knew that, but everything was spinning.

Was he breathing?

No. He wasn’t breathing. He tried to take a deep breath but it turned out he _had_ been breathing all along, and now his chest hurt. His heartbeat pounded in his ears.

Virgil was saying something. Roman flinched away from him. He didn’t want to get yelled at. Not yet. He just needed some time to remember how to move. He’d moved a second ago. Why wasn’t it working now?

“Roman!” cut through the haze in his mind. Virgil was sitting in front of him. That was weird. Virgil had been on top of the couch a second ago, right?

“Breathe,” Virgil was repeating. He reached for Roman’s hand and Roman flinched away involuntarily. A little spasm of hurt crossed Virgil’s face. Ugh, he’d made Virgil upset, stupid, _stupid_ –

“Breathe, Roman, breathe!”

He _was_ breathing, why couldn’t they _see_ that? He was breathing _fine_.

“I’m fine,” Roman forced out. It felt like a punch in the stomach. And all of a sudden, everything fell back into place. His hands, clenching around the couch for dear life. His knees pressed together. His shoulders tensed. Virgil sitting near him, trying to get him to breathe, Janus and Logan and Patton and Thomas staring at him, shocked and worried.

“You’re not,” Virgil said.

Roman tried to fight back.

But he hadn’t been breathing this whole time.

And his chest was too tight to form words.

“Breathe,” Virgil said again, and Roman closed his eyes and breathed.

It hurt. It shouldn’t hurt this much to breathe. It shouldn’t make his head spin and his eyes water. But he breathed. He breathed in and out and let the air fill him up, travel to every corner of his body. He could feel everything now. Everything was real. Everything was _too_ real, grating on him, pressing down around him. He could feel a million things. The air smelled like a million scents.

That exercise. Name five things, four things, three things. He felt everything. He heard everything. He tasted _too much_.

Everything was way too much.

It took too much effort to raise a hand.

He sunk out.

He crept into the Imagination, white upon white, nothing there but possibility and emptiness. He sat there and let the itchy wrong pour out of him, until he was wrung out on the floor, empty and exhausted. He curled up on the ground and slept. He could have gone to his bed, but he didn’t want the choking cover of sheets over him, the rustles of air around him. Here in the Imagination, it was quiet and still and he could just wait.

When he woke up, he’d crafted the living room in his head while he slept, because there was everyone right before he’d sunk out. Concerned and frozen and helpless. They were just trying to help, and he’d panicked for no reason.

Although. Now that he was awake, the whole situation was just _weird_. They were apologizing. To _him_. Why? Why on earth would they try to apologize? And why had Roman felt so off-kilter from the start? Why was everything so _wrong?_

Unless–

It hadn’t really happened.

Roman looked around at the facsimile he’d created. Down to the smallest details, it was perfect. He wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if he looked at it and the real room side-by-side.

It hadn’t happened, had it?

Roman didn’t know why that felt like such a blow. Of _course_ it hadn’t happened. Why would it? There had been no signs of it happening before then, and it didn’t match what any of the Sides really thought of him. They wouldn’t apologize to him. They’d done nothing wrong! And they wouldn’t have been so scared and worried when Roman freaked out.

Great. His subconscious was desperate for validation and made him a nice little scenario. He didn’t realize he was that much of a pathetic, selfish, greedy _mess_.

But this was good! It meant there wouldn’t be any humiliation or strange looks when he returned to the real world. He could continue maintaining his facade, and none of them would judge him for his weakness. Or worse, feel forced to tolerate him out of pity.

Roman’s stomach growled. Well, fantastic. He didn’t want to face the Sides again, but he’d probably faint if he didn’t have any food. Was it even breakfast time? Maybe not. Time was an illusion anyway.

Well. He climbed to his feet, vanished the living room, and stretched his arms and legs. Then he tore a little door in the side of the Imagination and strolled into his own room. He checked himself in the mirror. He looked surprisingly good for someone who just had a breakdown surrounded by manufactured figments of his imagination that resembled the other Sides.

The kitchen wasn’t empty like he’d hoped. Patton and Logan were having a hushed conversation, Janus was occasionally adding to it while fixing up several mugs of tea, and Remus and Virgil were sprawled on the floor together, watching what seemed to be Coraline on Virgil’s phone. It was really sweet. Roman smiled to himself as he walked in, stepping carefully over Remus’ feet.

Patton and Logan froze as soon as Roman walked in. Janus looked around and almost dropped the mugs.

“Hello!” Roman said brightly, opening the cupboard and grabbing some cereal. “Sorry to disturb you, I’m just getting some cereal. Carry on!”

Virgil made a small choking noise. Roman looked over and saw that he was struggling to his feet, staring at Roman with wide eyes.

“What is it?” Roman asked after a few seconds when it became clear Virgil wasn’t going to talk. “Is there something wrong?”

“Where have you _been?_ ” everyone yelled simultaneously.

Roman blinked. “Oh? I–how long have I been gone? I truly didn’t mean for it to be that long. Is there something I missed?”

“We were so worried!” Patton was babbling, running up to Roman and looking him over. “You just sunk out, and we couldn’t find you anywhere, and Remus said you weren’t letting him into the Imagination, and–”

“What?” Roman asked. “When did I sink out?”

“Yesterday,” Logan said. “After our conversation in the living room? You appeared distressed and sunk out before we could continue it.”

“Our conversation in the–” Roman froze. He thought he’d left the Imagination behind! Had he only fooled himself into leaving? Had he just sliced through one layer and tumbled into another, tossed between different pages of a book? Perhaps he was still dreaming, even. No, even his lucid dreaming wasn’t as realistic as this.

“Roman?” Patton asked, reaching forward but stopping himself, the concern painfully obvious in his face.

“Cut,” Roman murmured, waiting for the scene to change.

Nothing happened.

“What did you say?” Logan asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” Roman blurted out, stepping backwards. He tried to mentally tear the scene apart, go back to the start, rewind, pause, anything. There was no movement. All the Sides continued to stare at him.

There was something wrong. Why wasn’t the Imagination answering him? It was attuned to his every thought, molded by assumption and creation, a place where Roman was in complete control. It wouldn’t just not listen to him. Unless–

Unless this was real after all.

Which meant…

“We talked yesterday,” Roman said slowly, gauging the reactions. “That was real?”

“What?” Virgil asked. “Of course it was real, what are you talking about?”

It was _real_.

He’d really been in that room. They’d really apologized to him. And he’d really had a breakdown on the couch in front of everyone he knew.

“Wonderful,” Roman said. “Fantastic. Amazing. I have to go.”

“Wait,” Janus said.

Roman did not wait. He turned on his heel and practically sprinted out of the kitchen. Cereal be damned. He should have sunk out, but his thoughts were too fragmented to picture his own room, and he was afraid that the shifting of worlds around him would throw him off again. He’d just managed to get a handle on reality. He wasn’t in a mood to mess with it.

That was his mistake, though. Because as he bolted down the hallway, a figure collided with his chest and sent him to the ground.

“What–” Roman rubbed his shoulder and stared up at Remus. Remus stuck out his tongue, hands on his hips. Two octopus tentacles wrapped around Roman’s chest and held him in place.

“Remus!” Roman cried in annoyance.

“Got him!” Remus yelled.

There were footsteps behind him. Roman looked around and saw the other Sides approaching. He tried to wriggle out of Remus’ grasp, then tried to sink out, but the stupid slimy tentacles kept him in place.

“Let me go,” Roman complained as a bit of goop slipped down his leg.

“Only if you promise not to run again, bro.”

Roman sighed. “Promise. Now let me go.”

The tentacles made a little slurping noise and disappeared into Remus’ back. Roman jumped up and started wiping the slime off his uniform. Ugh, it was a mess. He’d need to conjure a new costume now! Yes, he could just snap the stains away, but he’d still feel the uncleanness in his soul.

“Disgusting,” Roman said as his fingers came away green and slippery. “Seriously. Did you have to do that?”

“You high-tailed it the heck out of there,” Patton said apologetically. “And we really need to talk.”

Roman bit his lip. “Yeah. I–I know.”

“Do you think…” Logan looked around. “Speaking in the hallway is not an optimal place. Perhaps we should go to the living room.”

“Or the real world.” Virgil curled into himself the moment everyone looked his direction. “What? I think Thomas should be there.”

Roman flinched at the mention of Thomas, and now all eyes were on him again, cloying and cloaking him in concern.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Virgil added. “Duh.”

“I–sure.” It would hurt to see Thomas, to have Thomas finally condemn him, but it was best to get everything out of the way at once. Like ripping off a bandaid or the sword from the stone. “That works for me.”

“Is he busy?” Patton asked.

“He’s watching Parks and Recreation,” Janus said. “Honestly, I think we’ll be doing him a favor by interrupting.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” Logan said firmly. “This is important.”

Roman swallowed down the lump of ice in his throat. Yeah, he supposed it was important. They’d finally seen how weak and worthless his Creativity was, and they needed to decide what to do immediately, before Roman’s problems affected Thomas’ creative performance.

“Glad we’re decided.” Janus clapped his hands. Half of them rose up in the living room and the other half appeared in the living room. Roman was in his usual spot by the crooked lamp, Virgil stood by the stairs, Logan in front of the kitchen, Patton by the blinds. Remus sprawled on the floor near Roman and Janus stood by the sofa.

“Thomas?” Logan asked.

Thomas, true to Janus’ word, had been watching Parks and Recreation. When Logan called his name, he paused the TV, jumping up.

“Hey, guys!” Thomas said. “What’s the matter? Thought we didn’t have that filming session until later.”

Virgil winced. “Yeah. Um. There’s…there’s a bit of a…situation?”

“A what?” Thomas looked around and seemed to finally see the serious looks on everyone’s faces. “What happened?”

“Who’d like to tell him?” Janus asked, his eyes lingering on Roman. A clear invitation.

"I–” Roman’s voice cracked, and he swallowed. “I can regale him with the tale, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Go for it, kiddo.” Patton’s usual encouraging smile was nowhere to be found. It made Roman feel strangely empty.

Roman could easily tell a lie. Leave things out. But Janus was staring right at him, so he knew even a lie of omission would be detected.

And besides, they deserved to know just how much of a screwup he was.

“So.” Roman placed a hand on his chest. “I, as the prince of your dreams, possess a land known as the Imagination. It is a place where I can conjure creations and sift through stories until an idea sticks. Remus has his own version.”

“Damn straight,” Remus agreed, sticking a lollipop up his nose. “Mine has all the cool stuff. Roman just uses his for rescue missions and heroic quests or whatever.”

“They’re fun,” Roman argued, before he remembered talking back was not the way to handle any conversation. Thankfully, Remus seemed occupied with shoving the lollipop nearer to his brain, and didn’t fight him on it.

“Well, yes, that’s the general idea,” Roman continued, turning back to the others. “I also use it, sometimes, to practice. Run through scenarios. A rehearsal of sorts before any big discussion.”

“Like what we did after I missed Joan’s performance?” Thomas asked.

“Exactly! That was what gave me the idea, actually.” Roman waved a hand. “It helps me feel more in control of the situation and avoid messing things up. I can predict how you will all react and find the best way to navigate a conversation.”

“Okay,” Virgil said slowly, “I can already predict where this might go wrong, but keep talking.”

“Then, you know, we had…” Roman scratched at the back of his neck. “The most recent episode. In which I said some rather unsavory and unprincely things to our snaky sixth side, which I am truly and deeply sorry for.”

“You’re forgiven,” Janus said almost instantly. Everyone stared at him. “What?” he asked. “It’s been months. Roman was upset and lashed out, I understand he didn’t mean to hurt me. Quite _honestly_ , I was more concerned that he hadn’t forgiven _me_.”

Roman tried to hide his complete and utter shock. He didn’t realize Janus was such a good person as to feel guilty for that! Well, Janus needed all the Sides to tolerate him in order to help Thomas, that was probably the reason.

“Of course I’ve forgiven you!” Roman declared. “You were upset and you fired back, and the jab was not uncalled for. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

Janus frowned slightly.

“Anyway,” Roman said, looking back at Thomas. “After that, I started practicing more often, and…I began losing track of time? Also, being exposed to that amount of rejection a day was–draining. My creative processes have suffered thanks to the amount of time I’ve spent improving my interpersonal expertise. So I apologize for that, deeply and sincerely. I promise I’ll be on-track soon–”

“Wait.” Logan looked deep in thought. “What do you mean, ‘that amount of rejection?’”

“Oh.” Virgil winced. “Knew it was gonna be something like that.”

“What?” Patton asked.

“Okay, Princey. Tell me if this sounds familiar.” Virgil blew his bangs out of his eyes. “You’re basically running through worse-case scenarios. Sure, you tell yourself they’re all accurate, but they’re the worst kind of accurate. They’re the stuff that wouldn’t actually happen. Probably on some level you get that it’s completely ridiculous to think you’d ever get that response or be in that situation, but it still seems plausible, so you keep doing it. And you start overthinking every little choice until you’re convinced you’re doomed to failure and think everyone hates you even though in real life, everyone thinks you’re great.”

Roman stared at Virgil for a very long time. There was a lot to unpack there. “How did you–”

“I’m literally Anxiety,” Virgil said, smirking. “That’s exactly what I do. Like every day.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound healthy,” Patton murmured.

“No, it isn’t,” Virgil said, giving Roman a pointed look. “Anyway. Continue.”

“Um. Alright.” Roman braced himself. “So I was having the conversation with the other Sides and you and I _may-have-not-known-whether-it-was-real-or-not-and-it-was-rather-terrifying._ ”

“What happened?” Thomas asked quietly.

“He had a panic attack,” Logan said. It could have been blunt, but it wasn’t. It was hesitant and soft, softer than Roman had ever heard Logan be, save for when Virgil was upset.

Thomas looked at Roman, and Roman pointedly stared at the floor, clasping his hands behind his back and trying not to bounce nervously.

“He’s been acting strangely for a while,” Janus added. Again, his voice was strangely soft. “It would…it would make sense, his apprehension whenever we talked to him, if Virgil’s theory is correct and he’s worried that we hate him.”

Roman frowned. “Wait, you don’t?”

That got everyone’s attention. Roman’s stomach dropped to the floor as Patton made a little sad noise, Virgil grimaced, and Logan stepped back like he’d been punched.

“No!” Thomas exclaimed. “Of course not!”

Roman laughed a little, waiting for the punch line. None came.

“We don’t hate you!” Patton managed, his eyes filling with tears. “Oh my goodness, Roman, we love you!”

“You’re fun to stab,” Remus said from the floor. “And, like, fun. In general.”

“You’re intelligent and thoughtful and creative…” Logan waved his hands. “I envy you and your ability to fight for your ideas and create such impactful stories. I have always valued you.”

“You’re…” Virgil swallowed. “You make us better. Make me better. Always.”

“I–” Roman covered his mouth. “You’re lying. You can’t–”

“I can taste lies, remember?” Janus smiled at Roman, a smile so different than his usual smirk, reassuring and steady. “They’re not.”

Roman couldn’t stop a little whimper from escaping. “I didn’t mess up?”

“No,” Thomas said, face open and caring and so, so soft. “You’re still you. You’re not perfect, but none of us are. You’re clearly so remorseful about your mistakes. Roman…you’re my hero. Always have been, always will be.”

Roman tried to take a deep breath and steady himself, but it caught in his throat. “You–” He shook his head and found words spilling from his lips. “I thought I ruined everything, you said I did, you said I was selfish and evil and worthless and I should just duck out and–”

“We never said any of that.” Logan shook his head. “We would never say any of that. Those are blatant falsehoods.”

“That’s not us,” Virgil said. “That’s what you were telling yourself.”

“The Imagination isn’t realistic.” Remus gave Roman a long look. “Never has been. It’s not what life is really like. It’s always warped by how _we_ see the world. So basically, Raggedy Ann is right. That stuff you thought we’d say to you? Total bull. You unreliable-narrator-ed yourself, bro-bro.” Remus smiled a little bit. “Happens to the best of us.”

“You’re amazing.” Patton’s jaw was set. “You’re wonderful and special and worth the world. I love you. We love you and we need you here. And–and I’m so sorry we didn’t see you were hurting.”

“It’s not your fault,” Roman said. “I’ve always been a good actor, right?”

That got another long silence.

“Kiddo,” Patton said, “would you like a hug?”

“What?” Roman asked.

“A hug,” Patton clarified, but that didn’t make any more sense. Why would Patton want to hug _Roman?_

“Hugs have been scientifically proven to increase mood,” Logan added.

Thomas just opened his arms.

Roman stumbled forward, waiting for Thomas to pull away from him, but nothing happened.

Roman sunk into Thomas’ arms.

Warm. Fire. Burning up and down his skin, heating him up from the inside. Roman buried his face in Thomas’ shoulder as Thomas’ arms came up and circled Roman. Thomas rubbed at Roman’s back. Roman whined–embarrassing, but it felt so _good_.

And then there was more. Patton, wrapping around his waist and pressing his cheek into Roman’s sash. Logan, running his hands through Roman’s hair. Virgil, curling up into Roman’s side and pressing against his chest. Remus, a little exuberant but surprisingly gentle, ruffling Roman’s hair and placing his head on Roman’s shoulder. A gloved hand traced Roman’s cheek, and Roman reached up to hold it. Janus smiled back at him.

“Guys, you–” Roman choked on his own words and realized he was going to _cry_. Great. Just what the moment needed–Roman ruining it by being _sensitive_ –

“Hey.” Thomas squeezed him tighter. “It’s okay, Roman. Let it out.”

“Really?” Roman asked, his voice small.

“You seem to need it,” Logan said.

“So go ahead.” Virgil smiled. “No judgement here.”

Roman closed his eyes and a few hot tears dripped down his face. He took a deep, shaky breath. Then Janus ran a thumb across his cheekbone, burning and soft, and Roman broke. He sobbed into Thomas’ shoulder, holding onto his friends–his friends–for dear life. Patton made a few little encouraging noises, and Thomas whispered little things. _It’s alright. It’s okay. You’re safe, we’re real, we love you._

Roman grasped on the words like they were his lifelines.

He didn’t really believe them. Not yet. But oh, how he wanted to.

“We should…” Logan said after a long time, after Roman’s tears had long dried but he’d remained in the hug to soak up the warmth. “We need to talk about this. We need to…make a plan. Find out how to be better.”

“Later.” That was Janus. “For now, I think we could all use a movie night.”

Virgil snorted. “It’s like ten in the morning.”

“Movie morning, then.” Janus looked to Thomas. “Does that sound good?”

“It sounds great.” Thomas smiled as Patton snapped his fingers and onesies replaced their usual outfits. Even Logan was wearing his unicorn onesie. “What do you guys want to watch?”

“Uh–” Roman waved a hand hesitantly. “Um. Can I–”

“Go ahead,” Patton said.

“I’d…I’d like to watch Hamilton? I…I knew–I thought. I thought you wouldn’t like it if I sang, and I, um. I didn’t enjoy it that much.”

“Neither did we,” Virgil said. “Missed having you rapping along.”

“That sounds adequate,” Logan said, flashing Roman a smile and leading the way to the couch. “I’ll get it ready. Thomas, some snacks?”

Thomas walked into the kitchen with Patton, and they pulled some snacks out of the cupboard. Roman sat down with Logan, Remus, Virgil, and Janus. Virgil sat by his shoulder and pressed his leg against Roman’s side. Janus lay a hand on Roman’s. Remus lay across Roman’s feet. And Logan bumped shoulders with Roman. The touch was warm and fiery and made Roman want to giggle uncontrollably. So he did, just a bit. Nobody seemed to mind.

Thomas and Patton came back with snacks, distributing them. Logan turned on the TV. And the first lines of Hamilton started to play.

It took Roman three songs to work up the courage to sing along. When he did, Patton’s smile lit up the room. Janus dipped lower to harmonize. Virgil huffed happily. Remus clapped his hands. And Logan consented to add a few notes in, here and there.

Thomas just stared at Roman, and for once, the attention wasn’t stifling. Because for once, Roman knew he wouldn’t be judged.

“This is real,” he whispered to no one. “Right?”

"It’s real, Princey.” Virgil reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ve got you.”

Roman smiled.

And for the first time in months, he felt at peace.


End file.
